EveningChats
by Popplioidol
Summary: Trigger warnings for self harm and extreme angst.


My first story with these two...a one shot that barely even hints at romance. It's a complicated relationship.

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Magolor noticed right away that the sounds next to the bed weren't Marx's usual sleeping sounds. It was something like a shuffling and a soft...weeping? Magolor laid in bed for a minute, about to ignore it like he usually did. Marx was probably up. What business of it was his what the little trickster was up to?

Why he got up is still a mystery to him. Pushing the blanket away from himself, the old sorcerer got up to a sitting position and called out gently, "Marx? Is that you?"

There was no answer and not a sound came from the other side of the room. Again, Magolor didn't know why he got up, but he did. Up and out of bed, he began walking across the room slowly, careful not to make too much noise. The thought had by now come into his head that this could possibly not be Marx, and there was an intruder aboard the lor starcutter. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, he thought he could make out a vaguely humanoid shape on the floor. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. That was definitely Marx on the floor, but the question was now, why was Marx on the floor? Walking forward, Magolor did something unexpected again. The mage reached out and touched his colleague, gently resting his hand on the other.

"Marx? Why are you out of bed-"

The words barely escaped his mouth before Marx whipped around, suddenly coming alive, and hissed at Magolor.

"Go away!"

Magolor withdrew the hand quickly, shrinking back. What was the matter with him? He shook his head to clear it of any worry that had begun creeping into his mind. This wasn't out of the ordinary behavior for Marx. As usual, he couldn't figure the trickster out at all.

He was about to turn and go back to bed when something shiny on the floor caught his eye. Instinctively he ran a finger over it and smeared it between his pointed finger and thumb. He sniffed it to confirm his suspicions and gasped in horror. This was blood!

Why was there fresh blood on the floor? Turning back to Marx, he cast a light spell and then quickly covered his mouth. Marx's face was hidden from view but Magolor could plainly see it was dripping blood at an alarming rate.

"Marx? What...happened to you? Are you okay? Is there an intruder on the ship?"

No answer.

"Well? I asked you a question! Are we in danger from enemy attack?"

"I said to go away didn't I? But you had to go poking your nose into it."

The smaller person spit blood onto the floor rudely and wiped his face with a sleeve.

Magolor winced thinking about how hard it was going to be to get that stain out-of the floor and the clothes. He was starting to get cross. First he wakes him up in the middle of the night, and now he wouldn't answer Magolor's questions!

"Ugh! You NEVER answer my questions! You're like a jigsaw puzzle! I never know what's going on with you." He finished with a pout.

"Well I never ASKED you to come bother me so I MUST be fine, don't you think?! 'Sides...S'none of your stinking business anyway." The younger person mumbled back, crossing his arms and laying his head on them.

"Well I never! And to think I was worried about you!"

Marx turned his head so he was staring at Magolor. He felt a little chill go down his spine when he noticed the wounds on Marx's face clearly for the first time. He'd never been good with blood. As a child he would faint at the mere sight of it.

The cuts were red and angry looking, jagged like they'd been done slowly.

A voice pulled him away from his thoughts, and he embarrassedly realized he'd been gawking.

"You were worried about me?"

Those purple eyes always seemed to pierce right through him. When Marx stared at him like that...Magolor felt a little strange. Like he was being eaten up by those eyes and their vast violent pools.

He shuffled nervously, unsure what to do with himself. "I...well...yes. Of course I'm going to be worried."

"Whatever. Stop lying."

"I- what!?"

"I know you don't care about me. So you can stop faking now. It's really getting on my nerves."

"I REALLY don't understand you. Here I am trying to say I care about you and you're throwing it back in my face!"

"..."

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?"

Magolor sighed and sat next to his colleague, careful not to sit so close that he pissed the other off any further.

"Marx..what am I going to do with you?"

Marx said nothing.

"Will you at least tell me what happened to your face?"

"I...I just got hurt."

"How? Did something break?" Magolor looked around for any evidence of this, but found none.

"Do you...do you ever...Feel like you have to hurt yourself?"

"Pardon me? Marx...what are you talking about."

Magolor grabbed the smaller mage and shook him by the shoulders.

"Marx, I'm being serious! What do you mean?! Did you do this to yourself!?"

Marx gently swatted the others hand away.

"Forget it. You wouldn't understand anyway."

For a long time Magolor was silent. Then he sat forward with his elbows on his knees and rolled up his sleeve. He spoke slowly.

"This...happened...when I was about your age. I...I was going through a rough time to say the least, haha. But we all make mistakes."

Marx said nothing at first, just stared at the scars crisscrossing the older mage's wrist. Then, slowly, tentatively, he reached out a hand and ran his fingers over the bumpy healed skin.

Magolor sat very still, as if Marx was a frightened cat, and let him touch his scars. Marx withdrew his hand. They sat in silence for some time.

"Sometimes...I...hear..things. Voices. And they say..horrible things. I get..." Marx breathed in, as if admitting all this was knocking the wind out of him.

"I get scared. And the, the. This. " he took a moment to gesture to his face, and then he too rolled up his sleeves, revealing an angry bramble patch of scars. "This makes them quieter. It makes them go away."

Magolor nodded. "For a while."

Marx's voice was small, so unusually small as he replied.

"Yeah."

"Hey Magolor?"

"Yes Marx?"

"Thanks. I guess. For listening."

Magolor let a small smile come to his face as he looked at his colleague.

"Here. Hold on." Concentrating, Magolor cast a healing spell and watched the jagged red lines turn first to pink, then to Marx's normal skin color.

"I..Huh?"

Marx felt his unmarked face in shock.

Magolor got up and winked at him. "Can't let that pretty face be marred, right?"

Marx's only response was to scowl and turn away. Magolor shrugged. It was a start.


End file.
